


I'm Not Calling You a Liar

by jelasdax



Category: Fast and the Furious Series, The Fast and the Furious (2001)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Kidnapping, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5176400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelasdax/pseuds/jelasdax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks into the truck hijacking case someone catches up to Brian.</p><p>There was no way this was going to end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not Calling You a Liar

Brian is only two weeks into the op when Verone gets out of prison and catches up to him. 

_Of course this had to happen now,_ Brian thinks before a starburst of pain at the back of his head makes thinking impossible and everything fades to black. 

He wakes up to the shiver of his own body and the sound of groaning. Lifting his head he discovers that the pained groaning is coming from him, he’s cold because he’s lying on what feels like concrete, and his head hurts like someone hit him with something really heavy, which hey, is exactly what happened, so that’s at least three things he knows. 

He blinks down at the concrete and tries to think back. Verone had been gloating, and one of the goons had come at him, and -

“So, Brian. You wanna tell me why we’re here?” 

\- and Toretto had been there.

_Fuck._

Two weeks into the truck hijacking task force and Brian had been close to getting hard evidence on Toretto. He’d gotten his in with the gang, made nice with Toretto’s bruiser friend, steered clear of the sister, and was just waiting for Toretto to make a mistake so Brian could collar him. For all that Toretto was obviously a criminal he was a decent enough guy and okay, fine, Brian liked him well enough - for a guy who’d beat another guy almost to death he was surprisingly laid back, and he obviously loved his sister and friends - but he was also the guy behind one of the biggest unaffiliated heists the city had seen for a while. He was smart, Brian would give him that - but he wasn’t smart enough to have gone respectable once he got out of prison. It had only been a matter of time before Brian found evidence and sent him back.

While he was waiting, though, he might as well enjoy himself, and Brian would be the first to admit it: dude had great taste in cars.

It hadn’t taken much persuading for Toretto to take them out, and they’d been driving for the sheer pleasure of it when Verone had made his appearance. Brian hadn’t had the chance to talk their way out before Verone’s goon had clocked him one. And apparently they’d decided to take Toretto with them.

There was no way this was going to end well.

—

Brian lets out another groan and hopes that he sounds pathetic enough that Toretto will take pity on him. “What happened?” he says, and squints as though the dim light is hurting his eyes. 

The long silence before Toretto speaks is a little worrying. Brian is a good liar - it’s why they tapped him for undercover work in the first place, and it’s what helps him be highly effective at his job - but even so he’s always been slightly wary of Toretto. He doesn’t want to get pulled into the guy’s orbit; doesn’t want any complications on this job. 

Monica is a prime example of what happens when there are complications. 

“Carter Verone said he had unfinished business with you.” Toretto sounds calm enough that Brian figures he can risk a glance; maybe he’s lucky and this situation is still salvageable. Toretto keeps talking before Brian can get a decent read on the man’s expression. “And then after he had you knocked out he called you O’Conner.”

Well, shit. There goes that theory.

“So I’m gonna ask you again, _Brian._ You want to tell me what exactly it is we’re doing here?”

Brian pushes himself up off the floor and gets his knees underneath him, puts his back to the wall. He screws up his face and makes sure to keep squinting even as he brings one hand to the back of his head. That was probably blood matted in his hair, but on the whole it didn’t feel too bad - nothing feels wet, at any rate, so at least he’s not still bleeding out.

“Where are we?”

“What, you don’t recognize a cell when you see one?”

That’s not good. Does this mean Toretto knows he’s a cop? Did he guess? Maybe Verone told him. Maybe he’s making too much of it, and this is the natural reaction to having been abducted because of someone else. Brian wouldn’t really know: he’s never had to deal with a kidnap or hostage case. 

He settles on, “Juvie was a long time ago, Dom,” and waits to see which way Toretto will take that. 

Toretto makes a considering noise and Brian takes another quick glance at him. This time the pain he’s been ignoring flares up and Brian inhales sharply, trying to breathe through it, but damn his head really fucking hurts. 

“Stop moving,” Toretto murmurs. He sounds a lot closer than he did before, and Brian flinches away from where light fingers are running over the worst of the pain. Brian gasps out a curse and Toretto shushes him again. It’s another few moments before the pain starts to fade away. “You might have a concussion.”

Brian starts to shake his head and then quickly realizes what a bad plan that is. “Don’t think so,” he forces out between clenched teeth.

“Any nausea? Are you feeling dizzy? Brian, do you really not remember what happened?” Aww, that’s sweet; Toretto sounds worried. Normally Brian would try and work that to his advantage, but normally he hasn’t just been injured and snatched by someone he’d helped put in prison. 

“Someone hit me,” he says, and Toretto goes still next to him. “I’m not dizzy, it just really hurts. It’s not a concussion. How’d they get you?” The brief times he’d managed to actually see Toretto there hadn’t been any bruises or injuries that Brian could see, and his pupils had looked to be reacting normally. He doesn’t appear to have been in a fight.

 _Why_ they took him is what Brian really wants to know, but he’ll take what he can get.

“They put a gun to your head and told me to get into a van,” and Brian is still processing that when Toretto continues, “Of course, if I’d known that you were a cop then, I might have walked away.”

—

“Is your name even Brian?”

After his little revelation Toretto hadn’t done much else, just shifted from his crouched position to sit against the wall next to Brian instead. 

They’ve been sitting in the echoing silence of the room for long enough that Toretto speaking comes as a shock. Brian has been trying to work out how to best play this but so far he’s come up with nothing. He might as well go along with wherever Toretto is going with this. 

“Yeah.”

“And you’re a cop.” 

He sighs. “What do you want from me, Dom?”

“Don’t call me that,” Toretto growls. It’s the first time since Brian woke up that he’s seen him anything but calm. Even when he told Brian he’d have let Verone shoot him his voice had been even. “Don’t act like we’re something we’re not when you’re a goddamned cop. You lied to me.”

Brian snaps out, “Maybe you should have thought of that when you started stealing shit off of trucks, Toretto, did you ever think of that? Christ, what did you think was gonna happen. They were always going to send someone. Or did you really think you were being that clever.” Brian shakes his head; he tries to shake off the unexpected anger too, but that’s not as easy. “Look, none of this is important.” 

Toretto scoffs. Brian ignores him.

“What is important,” he persists, “is getting out of here. Verone is dangerous.”

“Good thing you arrested him, then, isn’t it.”

Brian grinds his teeth. “Let it go or don’t, Toretto - either way, I’m getting out of here alive. You can come with me or you can take your chances with Verone. It’s up to you.” He turns to face Toretto head on, waiting to see which way the man will jump. Brian knows he’s smart - the question of whether or not Toretto is smart enough to overcome his anger is another thing entirely. 

But Toretto doesn’t look angry at a perceived betrayal. He looks… he almost looks pained. There’s a strange twist to his mouth that Brian can’t quite peg as anger, and what Brian would normally have classified as frustration is more -

Toretto blinks and his expression goes blank. “Let’s get out of here.”

If he didn’t know better he would have said that Toretto looked almost anguished. But that’s ridiculous.

—

“How long was I out?”

“A few hours,” Toretto says. When Brian doesn’t reply Toretto raises his eyebrows at him questioningly. “That’s bad?”

Brian smoothes out his face and tries not to let his worry show through. Verone should have been back by now. It doesn’t make sense for him to throw them in here and then not come back to gloat. Verone was big on punishment back in Miami; Brian thinks of the rat and shudders. 

“It’s probably nothing. Hey, how did you know about me? What did he say to you?” It’s been in the back of Brian’s mind for a while now - when did Toretto know? If Verone told him when they got taken, why was he checking Brian’s injury hours later? And if he told him after they’d been put into the cell, why didn’t Toretto tell him that someone had come by? 

It doesn’t make sense. Brian doesn’t get why Toretto is here at all. If Verone thinks that Brian is undercover again, why take the guy Brian is investigating in the first place? 

Toretto stares at the wall opposite them silently. Just when Brian is going to ask again, he says, “He didn’t tell me you were a cop. He called you O’Conner to his men, and after we were thrown in here I worked it out.” Toretto glances at him. “Like I said, it’s been a couple hours.”

Brian nods even though he’s still confused. “I don’t get why he took you too,” Brian confesses, and Toretto’s eyes widen slightly. “Do you know something?”

“No,” Toretto says, his face now turned away from Brian. He sounds tired. “How’s your head?”

Brian lifts a hand up to gingerly press around the injury. It’s painful but not bad. “Good enough to get out of here.” He looks around the room again but it’s still the same four concrete walls, single light bulb, and door that it was earlier. He nods at the faint outline of the door. “You already tried that, I’m guessing?”

“Nah,” Toretto says, “I figured I’d just sit here and do nothing,” and Brian feels himself smile in spite of their circumstances. “It ain’t budging. And the light is too well encased to try for a weapon. They took everything I had on me.” 

Brian is an idiot. He rolls his eyes at his own stupidity as he lurches upright, and when he starts to sway due to the inevitable head rush Toretto grabs his arm to steady him. Brian hadn’t noticed that he’d stood up too. 

“Whoa, you okay?” Toretto asks, and Brian nods distractedly at him while he pats at his pockets. Nothing. No wallet, no keys, no cash - aha. But there is something buried deep in the pocket of his jeans. 

He holds up the paperclip and grins at Toretto. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”

Toretto shakes his head but that’s clearly a smile tugging at his lips, so score one for Brian’s pants. “What are you gonna do with that, put the fear of office supplies into somebody?” He tugs on Brian’s arm and Brian lets himself be pulled to the floor. He has to admit that sitting feels a lot better than standing did.

“Hey man, don’t discount what I can do with general household supplies. I’m skilled with a mop.”

Toretto smiles at him, eyes warm. “I don’t doubt that.”

It takes Brian a moment to figure out why this feels strange, and when he does he has to swallow. 

This is the kind of back and forth that he and Toretto had before. Only now that Toretto knows Brian is a cop this shouldn’t still be happening. Brian isn’t actually Brian Earl Spilner, out to prove himself to the top dogs of the racing scene. He’s Officer Brian O’Conner, and Dominic Toretto is the criminal he was sent to arrest. 

His arm is warm from where Toretto still has one hand on him.

In the time it takes for Brian to look down Toretto casually lifts his hand off and settles himself a couple feet away along the wall.

“About getting out,” Toretto says calmly, “how will a paperclip help?”

Brian clears his throat. “I don’t know yet. But it’s better than having nothing.” A shiver runs through him. The room feels a lot colder than it did before.

—

He and Toretto had lapsed into silence at some point, and the abrupt clanging of the door as it’s thrown open disorients Brian despite his best efforts. He must have been drowsing. 

Verone walks into the cell. 

A step behind him are two additional men, guns trained on Brian and Toretto, and from Brian’s position on the floor he can see behind them there are even more guards.

Brian stays where he is. “I love what you’ve done with the place. Very prison-chic. Speaking of, how was prison?” Never let it be said that Brian knows how to keep his mouth shut.

Verone half smiles at him with dead eyes. “Very pleasant actually. I’m sure you understand now though that it was only a short stay.” 

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” 

“And how have you been, Brian?” Verone briefly slides his gaze towards Toretto. “Keeping busy I imagine, what with your job and all. Speaking of,” he mocks, “does your friend here know what you are?”

“Why don’t you tell me who you are, instead.” Toretto is the embodiment of lazy defiance as he stares at Verone. Brian would be impressed if he wasn’t so concerned about what Verone might do.

Verone motions to Toretto. “Shoot him,” he says and Brian is jerking forward before he can stop himself. Verone’s hand is raised in the air and a tattooed goon’s gun is aimed right at Toretto’s forehead, but he doesn’t fire and doesn’t fire and doesn’t fire.

Verone smiles, obviously pleased with himself, as he watches Brian frozen in place halfway to standing. “That will be all for today, I think. I’ll be seeing you, Brian.”

The door clangs shut. 

Brian waits until he can’t hear the faint sound of footsteps anymore before he lets himself relax. When he checks on Toretto he notes that the man looks calm for a guy who almost got shot. Toretto eyes him.

“I think it’s time you told me about Verone.” 

—

Tanner had known a guy in the DEA who was looking for someone to go undercover in Miami, and Brian’s name had come up. 

A week later he’d landed in Miami and won a job driving for Verone. Brian and the partner the department had provided him with had done their part and found the drug stash, and then they’d worked with a couple other agencies to take him down. Brian had been surprised to learn that there had already been an agent embedded in the organization, one that had helped them put Verone away.

He hadn’t thought it would be Monica. 

Monica had been Verone’s personal assistant, emphasis on the personal, and she and Brian had gotten close - but that was before he knew she and Verone were together, and definitely before he knew she was undercover. Back in the beginning he’d thought that the best way to get in and stay in was to get close to someone near Verone, so he’d flirted like mad with her. 

In hindsight that had been a mistake. 

Verone had been upset, and Brian had learned the difference between getting an in for a job and a personal connection. Brian didn’t get emotionally involved anymore. It was better that way.

Brian doesn’t tell Toretto all of the details about Monica, but he does tell him about Verone. About how vindictive he is, and possessive; how crazy he’d gotten when he had discovered that Monica liked Brian a little too much for his taste.

Toretto says sceptically, “Let me get this straight: you made time with a cartel head’s woman? And you’re surprised that he’s come after you?” and Brian glares at him. 

“I didn’t make -” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. We just -”

“Have to get out, yeah, I get it,” Toretto finishes. “Why are we here, though. Why didn’t he shoot you on the street.” He catches Brian’s gaze and Brian can’t look away. “You’re not telling me something.”

“There’s nothing else to -” 

But something has been niggling at Brian’s attention since it happened, and he breaks off mid-thought. Verone called Toretto his friend. The emphasis he’d put on ‘friend’ had been odd but Brian hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time, having been more interested in not dying than in dissecting Verone’s word choices. 

But now…

“He thinks I’m playing you.” Or, no, not quite that. Verone had pulled a gun on first Brian and then Toretto. That wouldn’t make sense unless he thought -

Unless he thought that Brian was either on a job because of Toretto (true) or on a job and playing Toretto like he’d played Monica (false). 

Or, Brian thinks, feeling vaguely uncomfortable and hating it, Verone thought that pulling a gun on each of them would work because he thought there was enough emotion involved to warrant a hostage situation. 

“He’s right.” 

Brian’s head snaps up and he stares incredulously at Toretto. 

“You were playing me.”

Oh. 

That. 

Brian looks at his hands. “I won’t apologize for doing my job.”

Toretto’s voice is so quiet that Brian has to strain to hear it. “Anyone else and I wouldn’t have -” He cuts himself off and Brian forgets to mask his curiosity. He looks up. 

Toretto wouldn’t have what? His expression isn’t giving anything away. Toretto starts talking again, all business as though he’s dealing with customers in the garage. “If I’m a job then why take me. I’m not good collateral for a cop, especially not in LA.” Brian bristles at that but finally concedes it’s more or less true. The LAPD has a bad reputation for that shit. “What’s his angle?”

Brian keeps his mouth shut. The benefit right now is that Toretto is a clever guy. And because he’s clever he is going to work out what Brian just worked out, and then they’ll be on the same page. 

Toretto blinks and then shuts his eyes for a long moment. “He knew about the DEA woman?” Brian tells him yes and Toretto sighs. “That’s why he pulled the gun trick.”

“Yeah.” Brian starts to smile. “But that’s how we’re going to escape.”

—

No one comes back for long enough that Brian seriously starts to consider banging on the door and asking for a drink and a steak dinner. 

It’s been at least ten hours since this all started, maybe more, and he and Toretto had already pushed lunch back in favour of more driving when they’d been snatched. 

At this point Brian would happily wolf down one of those crappy tuna sandwiches, and that’s saying more about how hungry he is than how good the sandwiches are. Toretto’s sister would probably make a great doctor - assuming she doesn’t go in for the life of crime like her brother, that is - but she obviously hadn’t gotten the food thing down yet. Then again Brian hasn’t either, so what does he know.

“Okay, worst thing you’ve ever eaten: go.” 

Toretto blinks and then slowly turns his head to direct an inquisitive look at Brian, but he doesn’t say anything in response. Brian isn’t going to let a little thing like Toretto not deigning to play with him spoil the attempt to cure his boredom, so he answers his own question.

“For me it was at this food shack on some beach down at the coast. We went joyriding one day - I wanted to see the beach - and we ended up eating at this godawful place. No, really,” he says with a laugh when Toretto seems unconvinced, "we ordered the crab cakes. My friend and I were sick the whole day. Should have known better when there wasn’t anyone else there at dinnertime.”

There’s a quirk at Toretto’s lips like he’s trying not to smile, and it’s an insignificant thing but it feels like such a victory. They’ve been sitting in uncomfortable silence for too long. 

“The coast, huh?” Toretto mutters, that almost-smile fading, and Brian thinks of the fake license with the Arizona address Toretto had seen. 

“I grew up in Barstow,” he says. “It was three hours to the Pacific. First thing I did when I moved to LA was go to the beach." 

It feels like a confession. 

Maybe it is.

Fuck, he could really use a cigarette right now. 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Toretto studying him before he seems to sag against the wall. Brian hadn’t noticed that he’d been tense before, but the sudden absence of it now is startling.

“You don’t have to do that anymore.” 

“And what am I doing,” Brian says, weary already of the conversation they’re sure to have.

“I know you’re a cop now.” Toretto’s voice gets louder. “Stop pretending-“

“I’m not pretending-“ Brian hears himself shout before he stops; he’s surprised by how harsh his breathing is. Toretto is a silent presence next to him while Brian’s heart thunders in his ears. _Why hasn’t he moved?_ The thought drifts through Brian’s head like molasses. It’s a small room. There isn’t any tactical advantage to their position. Why are they still - “There is no benefit in me lying right now.” Brian takes a steadying breath. “I’m not that complicated a guy.”

“Thought you weren’t lying,” Toretto says almost sulkily. 

“What is your problem, man? Why won’t you let this go?” Brian doesn’t understand why Toretto is taking this so - fuck it, personally - and he’s quickly losing patience. This isn’t going to help them escape.

“You lied to me.”

Yeah, so? Brian has lied to a lot of people. 

“You’re a criminal,” he reminds Toretto. It can serve as a reminder for himself, too, because however much he seems to be forgetting it inside this cell, Toretto is the bad guy. 

Except… he’s not, really. Verone is a bad guy. That one’s easy. He supplies drugs, gets people hooked, then sells them more. He’s killed people, abducted people, hell he’s probably sold people too. 

So yeah, there’s definitely a lot worse out there than Toretto. Brian has seen the results of those kinds of people: the destruction, broken lives, and hurt people they leave behind; the inevitable sour taste in the back of Brian’s mouth when he sees the wreck they’ve caused.

“Technically I’m an ex-con. I haven’t been charged with anything recently,” Toretto drawls, but he’s serious again a moment later. “I did my time.”

“That’s just it though - jacking trucks, Dom, Christ, you’d be a repeat offender. You’d do hard time. Why risk it?”

Toretto’s eyes cut towards him. “Why did you become a cop?”

Is it too childish for him to say _I asked you first?_

He unfolds his legs, stands up, and stretches his arms above his head. The pop and sudden release of tension in his shoulders is a welcome relief from the pressing sense of expectation, but it’s only temporary. Brian finds himself standing in the room awkwardly as Toretto’s heavy gaze rests on him.

Either the wait or the captivity must be affecting him; this shouldn’t be that difficult. He’s always found lying to be easy.

He tries the door but Toretto was right: it’s not budging. Brian lets out a frustrated huff of air and kicks it hard, but all he gets is a jolt up his leg. He clenches his teeth and tries to get his cool back. “Juvie sucked. I decided I wasn’t going back.” 

“How long were you in for?” Toretto asks, but hell no: if they’re doing this then he’s got to pay up too. Brian spins around to face him and shoves his hands into his pockets. 

“It’s your turn.” They stare each other down but Toretto blinks first. Brian would enjoy his victory more if this didn’t suddenly feel so dangerous.

Yeah, right. Even he isn’t buying that. Brian is totally enjoying the victory, and fuck the inherent danger in this situation.

Toretto’s slow smile tells him he knows it too. 

Brian watches him raise one hand to touch his cheek briefly before he gestures at the air between them. “All that adrenaline rushing through me when I’m racing, just myself and my car, no one else’s bullshit - not having to deal with anyone’s expectations of who I am, who I’m supposed to be.” That hand lifts again to rub at his mouth as dark eyes hold Brian’s own. “It was one of the few times when I felt free.”

Brian swallows. 

“I think you know what I’m talking about, Brian.” The way Toretto says his name makes Brian want to squirm. Toretto rises to his feet and Brian watches, transfixed, as he gets closer. Brian knows for a fact that Toretto is shorter than he is but it sure doesn’t feel that way right now. “After all, it was you who wanted to go driving today. How much of that was for the job, and how much was you craving it?”

Brian doesn’t want to answer that. “Six months,” he says instead, and tries to ignore Toretto’s satisfied expression at the evasion. 

“You gonna ask me a question? Your rules,” he adds after a moment, as though Brian has forgotten. 

Brian doesn’t want to ask him anything else. “Worst thing you’ve ever eaten,” he says and doesn’t feel anything at the flash of disappointment on Toretto’s face. 

He doesn’t.

Toretto leans in another half inch, so close now that Brian can feel his breath. “Maybe you weren’t pretending as much as I thought you were. You still don’t like to talk about yourself.” He finally backs off and goes to sit down again, and Brian takes a steadying breath surreptitiously before he slides down his own wall.

Toretto starts talking about his first disastrous forays into cooking when he was a teenager, and Brian listens and doesn’t let himself think about anything else. 

—

The door opens and Verone and four men walk in. Verone looks down at Brian. “Get up,” he orders. Brian stays where he is. Verone’s already flat expression grows colder, and then he gestures. The same tattooed guard from earlier steps up and puts a gun to Toretto’s head. “Get up or I will have him shot right now.”

Brian eyes Verone. “You do that and you’ll have nothing on me.” 

Verone’s smile widens. “Maybe not. But I imagine it would hurt you a lot more than it would inconvenience me. So I’m going to repeat myself just once more: get up.”

Brian gets up. 

“Turn around. Good. Tie him up,” and Brian’s hands are pulled behind his back and something - are those cable ties? - gets wound around his wrists. He’s spun around and gets a brief impression of the absolute fury on Toretto’s face before they’re in the hallway, the door slamming shut behind them. Verone is in the lead and Brian counts three guards with them. He twists: the fourth one is staying behind, taking up a position outside the cell with his gun drawn. Verone must have noticed Brian’s movement; he chuckles. “In case you get any bright ideas,” he says, and Brian pushes the rage down deep inside him, tries to keep a clear head.

Brian isn’t a hundred percent sure which day it is, but that’s definitely daylight streaming through the high windows. That’s one other thing he knows, at least, and then Verone gleefully supplies more information.

It’s almost comical, in a low-budget movie kind of way: they’re on the ground floor of a warehouse, stacks of boxes in haphazard piles all over the place, while Verone goes on and on about money and honour and justice, and then it turns out that his big plan involves using Brian to get into the LAPD database and stealing something. And of course, he’d murmured slyly, once he was finished they’d be allowed to leave. 

“You know I’m not a tech guy, right?” 

Verone seems amused. “But you are resourceful, as I discovered the last time we met.” He consults a watch. “You have an hour. If my associate hasn’t told me you have it by then I’m going to have your friend killed. And it’s going to be messy.” 

One of the guards grins wolfishly at him and Brian stares back. The man’s expression twitches.

Verone tsks. “I’ve heard LA traffic is a nightmare,” he says, as Brian feels hands cutting his restraints off. “If you want your friend to live you had better go now.” 

Brian runs for the car.

—

The RX–7 is an amazing car to drive, one Brian would be way more appreciative of if he weren’t on a literal deadline. As it is he’s only peripherally regretful of the damage he does to the front bumper and right side of the car when he takes a corner too hard. He’ll be lucky if all it needs is a coat of paint when he’s done with it.

Verone’s tattooed goon is looking green around the gills as they dart through traffic. At one point Brian pulls out into the oncoming lane to get around a pack of slow-moving cars and the guy lets out a weak-sounding moan. 

Brian spares him a glance. “How much time do I have.” When Tattoos only makes another pained noise Brian takes one hand off the wheel to shove at him. “Hey! Talk to me!” 

Tattoos yelps, his eyes wide and panicked. “Eyes on the road, eyes on the road!” 

—

He lifts someone’s cell phone on the sidewalk outside the nearest precinct, manages to slide it into his pocket and flip it to silent without Tattoos seeing it, and swipes a badge in the lobby. He spins a story about being new to the woman at the front desk and she lets them inside; Brian is desperately grateful for how terrible the security here is.

Another convincingly-told lie means a tech gets him the information he needs, and a little flirting with her buys him five minutes to himself to copy it all onto Verone’s flash drive. 

The countdown in Brian’s head ticks down to 25 minutes when they reach the car.

Seconds later, on the road and speeding back to the warehouse, Brian notices that Tattoos still hasn’t called in. “What the hell are you waiting for?” No response. Brian bites his mounting frustration. “Call him! Tell him we’re on the way!” 

The man shakes his head and looks ill. “Doesn’t work that way.” He gulps. “Better drive faster.”

Of fucking course. 

—

The phone in his front left pocket is nicely hidden from Tattoos but it’s position means it is pretty much impossible to use. The way Brian figures it he has one shot before they get back and Verone decides to stop fucking around and kills them both. 

“Tell me how much time I have!” he shouts, and while Tattoos is distracted he maneuvers the phone out of his pocket. This next bit is going to be tricky, but Verone was right about one thing: Brian is definitely resourceful. He’s also highly motivated, and although he may be running out of time, he is also in a car built for street racing by a man who doesn’t lose. 

They’re gonna be fine. 

“Eight minutes. What are you doing?” Tattoos sounds panicked again but Brian is a little too busy to play babysitter.

Left hand tight on the wheel and right hand going for the hidden gauges, Brian mutters “Shut up” and keeps working. He switches hands to wake the phone up, feels a smile begin to form at the lack of a passcode, and takes a deep breath. 

Tattoos says something that Brian ignores, and he hits the spray.

—

“Very impressive, Brian. And with three minutes left to go I almost thought you were going to leave your friend to die.”

Brian inclines his head at Tattoos and doesn’t take his eyes off Verone. “He’s got your info,” he says. “I did my part. Now it’s your turn.”

Verone begins to walk around Brian, circling him. “Did I ever tell you,” he starts, “just how much I enjoyed you sending me to prison?”

As Verone moves behind him Brian carefully twists his wrists together, but the new cable ties are too tight for him to get any leverage. At least his hands are tied in front of him this time. It’s not much, but he could always ram them into Verone’s throat. 

He tries to sound indifferent. “You know you never did send me a card.” 

Verone laughs. “I like you, Brian. Always with something to say. I’ll bet Monica liked your mouth too.”

Something shifts at the edge of his vision. Brian blinks his eyes away from that direction and focusses on Verone.

“Monica liked lots of things. Too bad none of them were you.” Brian smirks at Verone. “She told me it was the most disgusting thing she’d ever had to do, pretending that she liked you. That your touch didn’t make her skin crawl.” Verone stops his circling and stalks towards him instead, hatred burning in his eyes. Brian raises his voice. “She seemed like such a perfect woman, wasn’t that what you said? Funny how that works.”

Verone isn’t smiling anymore. “I’m going to kill your lover,” he says, voice hard and sharp. “Right in front of you. I’m going to make you watch. And then, when I’m ready, I’m going to kill you too.” 

“I don’t think so.”

Verone jerks at Toretto’s voice and starts to turn around, but Brian lunges forward and gets his bound hands around Verone’s neck to hold him in place. 

Brian catches Toretto’s eyes. “There’s a phone in my pocket,” he prompts, but Verone struggles and Brian drives his knee up and into the man’s balls. Verone makes a pained noise and Brian lets him drop to the floor, considers, then knees him in the face for good measure. The crunch of Verone’s nose as it breaks is extremely satisfying.

When he looks up Toretto is wincing. “Ouch.”

Brian grins at him. “It’s no less than he deserves. Now get me out of these things.” He holds his hands out and Toretto tucks the gun he’s holding into his waistband. 

“Any chance of a knife?” It must be a rhetorical question because Toretto doesn’t wait for a response before he starts to examine the ties around Brian’s wrists. There are a lot of them. 

“Hand me the phone first. I’ve got that paperclip in the other pocket.”

“Such a boy scout,” Toretto smirks as he fishes the phone out for Brian. Considering he was dialling blind Brian is pleasantly surprised to see that he got the number right. He gets the phone up to his ear and holds it in place with his shoulder while Toretto slides his hand deep into Brian’s other pocket. Brian licks his lips and after a moment remembers the phone. 

“Sergeant?”

“Brian! Are you okay? What happened? We’ve got a trace on your location and there’s a team on the way.” Tanner is frantic but professional, and Brian answers him on autopilot; most of his attention is on Toretto’s deft fingers as they manipulate the paperclip into the catch of the ties. 

Tanner finishes by telling him they’ll be there soon and Brian lets the phone drop. One of the four cable ties is gone now, and Brian distracts himself by looking over their surroundings. There are a couple bodies here and there, but they appear to be breathing.

“How did you get out?” 

Toretto doesn’t look up and Brian’s attention narrows in on the slightest traces of stubble on his bowed head. “They opened the door and I was tired of playing the damsel in distress. You know the rest.”

Brian can’t see his face to get a read on what he’s thinking, so he tries to make light of the situation. “You did have a gun pointed at your head a lot today. Ow!” 

“Sorry; it slipped.” Toretto’s thumb rubs over his wrist soothingly and Brian’s breath catches.

That would be the adrenaline. 

The last cable connecting his wrists together comes off. Now all that’s left are the individual ones around each wrist. Brian could have them cut off later when the squad arrives, but Toretto keeps going and Brian doesn’t pull his hands back.

Casting about for something to say, Brian settles on, “I’m sorry you got caught up in this.” 

It’s almost as if Toretto is laughing except for how there’s no mirth in it. His head comes up at last and he glances at Brian before going back to the ties. “Well, now we’ve both had run-ins with each other’s past baggage. I’d say we’re even.” 

Guess so.

“Is that what they normally do? When they send someone in undercover,” Toretto adds, still not looking up. “What you said about her being his perfect woman.”

“Uh, no, not really. Sometimes. Hers was a long term assignment, and they would have done all kinds of profiling on her mark so she could work with her handlers to…” Brian trails off. He had missed one of the ties coming loose, and there’s only one left now. Once it’s gone so is the excuse for standing like this. “I wasn’t long term. Dom…”

Whatever it is he means to say is lost as Brian hears the faint sounds of someone outside, and the last tie breaks off half a second later. 

It turns out to be a lot of someones. Within minutes the warehouse is full of police and they all want to talk to Brian. He’s in the middle of an impromptu debriefing when he sees an officer walking up to Toretto with a pair of handcuffs. He breaks away. “Hey, hold up. What is this?” 

The officer doesn’t take his eyes off Toretto even as he answers Brian. “He had a gun, so I took it off him.” He sneers. “He doesn’t have a permit.” 

“Yeah,” Brian says sharply, “he doesn’t have a permit because he took the gun off of the guy who was going to kill us both. So back off and put the fucking handcuffs away.”

A beat where nothing happens, two: and then the handcuffs are tucked away and the officer turns to glare at Brian. “A guy like this, who knows: maybe he was in on it the whole time. And you’d just let him walk,” he finishes in disgust.

Brian opens his mouth to tell this fuckwit what he thinks of that but another voice speaks up before he can start. 

“Stand down, Jones. I’m sure Brian knows what he’s doing.”

Brian holds the stare until the other guy shakes his head and leaves, and only then does he turn to look at Tanner. “Hey, Sarge.” 

Tanner claps him on the shoulder. “Brian. You’re alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. They didn’t touch us.” 

Tanner’s eyes look beyond Brian and Brian is uncomfortably aware of Dominic Toretto, person of interest in an undercover operation, standing behind him. 

Tanner nods, distracted. “Well that’s good,” he says. “I’m glad you’re alright. Brian, if you have a minute…?”

“Uh, yeah. Of course.” He glances back at Toretto. “I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“I don’t think I’m going anywhere just yet,” Toretto says. Brian doesn’t know what to make of that. “But I’m sure you’ll know before I will.”

—

The one thing about being a cop that Brian dislikes - okay, one of many - is how much unnecessary paperwork there is for everything. By the time he gets his head out of all the documents required of him it’s dark out, and Brian has vague memories of scarfing down what was probably a sandwich. 

They’ve been back at the station for hours by that point and Verone and his men are locked up. Again. Just when he thinks it’s all over and he can go home and sleep for a week Bilkins shows up and tears a strip off of him for breaking his cover without getting anything in return.

Brian punches him in the face. 

Admittedly, it’s not one of the smartest things he’s ever done. 

He gets placed on administrative leave “because of your abduction, and so that you can have time to recover” Tanner says. 

But that’s bullshit, because a couple visits with the psychologist later he’s got a stamp in his file that says he’s fine, fully recovered in fact, and yet he’s still not cleared to come back. 

He spends a lot of time at the beach.

He hasn’t seen Toretto since that day at the warehouse. 

Not that he cares. 

—

It takes him a couple weeks but one day he finds himself in Echo Park and from there, well, why not. 

It’s only when he drives up to the house and sees all the cars that he begins to have second thoughts, but by that point it’s already too late, and Brian has never been one for backing out of something once he’s committed. 

He’s leaning up against his car when the door opens and Dom steps out. He’s wearing an old undershirt and cargo shorts and he is quite possibly the best thing Brian’s seen all day. 

He has to say it; just in case. “Tell me to go and I will.” 

Dom rests one arm against the pillar and Brian braces himself. “We’re watching a movie,” he says. “You got time?”

Brian starts to smile. “I have time.”

“Then come on already. Popcorn’s getting cold.” 

—

When the credits roll Brian still has no idea what it was about. He must have come into the film about three quarters of the way through, and what he mostly remembers of it there were a lot of explosions. The others had kept shooting him distrustful looks all throughout the film, and not even two minutes after it ends they’ve all disappeared.

And then it’s just him and Dom. 

“How have you been?” he asks and then immediately cringes. It’s not the greatest opening line, though going by the amused expression on Dom’s face he doesn’t seem to mind that much. Brian stands up and moves into the centre of the living room, glancing out the windows and then back at Dom.

“Can’t complain. It’s been quiet.”

Brian nods, stuffs his hands into his pockets, then nods again. “Good, that’s - quiet is good.”

“No cops around here recently.” It’s said almost as a question.

“Yeah, there shouldn’t be: once they’ve got your statement that’s pretty much it unless something else comes up, and they’ve got me for that, so…” he trails off and thinks about it again. “But that’s not what you meant, is it.”

Dom inclines his head. “Not so much.”

“Yeah.” The living room is quiet for a moment. “You know, cases that lack evidence tend to dry up, and this case I was working stopped supplying evidence. Turns out it’s a dead end. Funny how that works.”

Dom is very obviously studying him. “You knew.” 

Brian knows. It just doesn’t matter to him anymore. And anyway, he hadn’t seen anything and Dom had never confessed.

He meets Dom’s eyes. “I’m still a cop.” He doesn’t mean it as a response to Dom’s statement. It’s a fact. What he means is _I’m a cop, so tell me now if that’s a deal breaker._

“Believe it or not, O’Conner, I did notice that about you.” Dom stands too, taking a step closer to Brian. “Is that it?”

 _No._ “Yeah.”

“You sure about that?” Dom’s smile is lazy; he could easily be a great cat getting ready to pounce. Brian wouldn’t mind a little pouncing, but he’s not exactly prey either. He puts himself into Dom’s personal space and uses that extra height to force Dom into either tilting his chin up or being the one to break their eye contact. 

“What is it you want from me?” It’s been in the background of Brian’s mind for weeks now and he still doesn’t trust what he’s come up with. Now is as good a time as any to get an answer.

The corner of Dom’s mouth ticks up. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m taking everything. I’m selfish that way.” 

Dom kisses him and it’s such a relief: he’s not alone in this after all.

—

The sound of something clattering to the floor brings Brian’s awareness back to the living room instead of on Dom’s clever hands and mouth.

One of those hands tightens on Brian’s nape as he tries to pull away to check their surroundings and Brian can’t help a smile at the possessiveness in the gesture. Still; he squeezes Dom’s hip briefly and then taps it once; Dom grumbles at him but his grip loosens enough for Brian to turn. 

Across the room Mia is shaking her head as she rises up from a crouch, a plastic bowl in her hands, and behind her Jesse is wincing and gazing at her apologetically. Mia doesn’t look angry but she isn’t looking impressed either. Dom clears his throat and Jesse’s head snaps up to stare at them owlishly.

“Uh,” Jesse starts. “Sorry Dom, I didn’t -”

Mia cuts him off, her tone arch. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Jesse. After all, if Dom was looking for privacy Dom should have remembered that he has his own room, and that other people live here, too.” 

Dom apparently chooses not to take his sister up on the unspoken dare because all he says is “You’re right.” He crowds closer to Brian’s back and lowers his voice; his mouth is tantalizingly close to Brian’s ear. “You wanna come upstairs?” 

Hell yes. 

Brian grins and nods to Mia and Jesse. “Have a good night. See you some other time.”

When they’re alone in the room again Brian smirks down at Dom’s hands. “If you want me to move you’re going to have to let go of me first.” 

Dom bites him on the shoulder and Brian twists, narrowing his eyes at Dom. “What was that for?” 

“What if I don’t want to let go,” Dom says playfully as he pushes his hips into Brian’s ass. 

He’d respond in kind but he’s much more interested in the erection that’s thrusting enticingly against him. And because Brian is so very good at seeing the endgame he pulls himself away and takes off. He doesn’t even get halfway up the stairs before Dom catches up to him, and then it’s a race to see who can get to the bedroom first. Dom wins; he cheats and starts groping Brian in the hallway, and Brian is too distracted by Dom’s hot hand palming his cock to care.

Dom presses him up against the now-closed bedroom door. “This all it takes to shut you up?” Dom mutters in between kisses to Brian’s throat. “What, no more smart comments?” 

Brian pulls his hands away from where he’d been unbuttoning Dom’s shorts and gives him his best innocent look. “Here I thought we were going to fuck, but if you’d like to have a conversation instead I can do that. How about the benefits of electronic-“

Dom tries to shut him up by sticking his tongue in his mouth, but he started this so Brian breaks away to gasp out, “Fuel injection is a very serious thing, Dom, and-“ he keeps talking even as Dom strips Brian’s shirt off of him; Brian helpfully raises his arms. “It’s important that we-“ impatient hands at his jeans now, shoving them down even as Brian moves to kick his shoes off. “That we, oh fuck, just like that, do that again - holy shit!”

Dom curls his tongue around Brian’s cock once more before pulling off and meeting Brian’s gaze. “I want you on the bed. Now,” he adds when Brian is still rooted to the floor a moment later. Brian is finding it a little hard to follow instructions when Dom’s skilled mouth is right there, less than an inch away from Brian’s cock. If Brian thrust forward just a little more he’d have Dom’s hot, clever mouth on him again. 

But the bed offers a lot of really great things, and Dom’s intent eyes are promising one hell of a ride.

He moves to the bed and is rewarded with Dom’s warm smile. Brian licks his lips as Dom takes his own clothes off to reveal an impressive display of muscle and toned skin. Brian has seen Dom shirtless before in the garage, but this is a whole other level of hot. Before Brian wasn’t letting himself look; wasn’t letting himself go there even in the privacy of his own mind, and now it’s like the floodgates have opened. He wants it all.

Dom must have taken Brian’s distraction in stride because his hungry gaze trails up to Brian’s face moments later. “Turn over for me.” 

Brian is flipping onto his stomach before Dom even finishes the sentence. His face is burning, which is crazy considering how much blood is in his dick right now. The bed dips and a hand strokes down his spine. Brian fights the urge to shiver, and then Dom’s mouth touches his neck just under his hair and he can’t stop the shudder at all.

“I can’t tell if that’s good or bad.” Dom’s already gravelly voice is even rougher now with desire. 

Brian swallows and hopes he doesn’t sound as desperately turned on as he feels. “You’ll know if I don’t like something.” That he’s confident about. The intensity of his reactions to Dom are something else entirely. 

Dom makes a considering noise. “Fair enough,” and that appears to be the end of the Q&A period. Dom runs his hand down Brian’s back again and this time he lets himself shiver at the sensation, and when Dom starts kissing down his spine he moans and rubs his aching erection into the mattress. Dom chuckles against his skin as his hands squeeze Brian’s ass. 

“Yeah,” Brian mutters against the pillow, pushing his hips back into the touch and then grinding against the mattress again. Christ, they haven’t even done anything yet and already Brian is close to the edge. “You might want to hurry things up,” he forces through clenched teeth. “Or I might start without you.”

Dom sounds amused as he slides his fingers into the cleft of Brian’s ass and starts stroking gently. “We wouldn’t want that,” he says, and kisses his way down Brian’s back again, taking his time. Brian fists his hands into the sheets and resolutely doesn’t beg for more, though he can’t help the way his hips are twitching back and forth. Dom bites him under the curve of his ass and says, “Lift up.”

Dom’s hands steady him as he gets to his knees, leaving Brian with his ass in the air and his head uncomfortably smushed against Dom’s pillow. He pushes up on his hands; much better. Dom makes a humming noise and runs his hands down Brian’s legs, and Brian shivers at the approval implicit in the gesture. Fingertips trail up his body again until they get to Brian’s ass, and then Dom spreads his cheeks wide to expose his hole. “Fast enough for you, O’Conner?” Dom asks slyly, and then he puts his mouth on Brian. 

Brian chokes on a breath as Dom licks into him, as he opens him up on his tongue, and when Brian instinctively pushes his hips back to get more he feels vibrations rumbling through him: Dom, laughing. Brian would be annoyed but there’s no room in him for anything resembling bad feelings right now.

Fuck, it’s good.

Dom stops and Brian makes a desperate noise deep in his throat. “Do that again,” he rasps.

Dom obligingly puts his mouth on him again and Brian feels his arms give out from under him. He manages to brace himself on one shoulder and then stiffens when he feels a wet finger sliding into him beside Dom’s tongue. Dom presses deep inside him and an electric shock runs through Brian, his cock jerking while his toes curl at how fucking awesome it feels, but Dom doesn’t stop to let him catch his breath as he slides another couple fingers into Brian.

Oh Christ, three fingers thrusting into him now and Dom’s tongue pushing in between them, screwing him open even wider and getting him good and wet. Brian tries to get a hand on his aching cock to take the edge off but Dom bats Brian’s arm to the side and, to Brian’s horror, pulls his mouth away too. Dom’s fingers keep thrusting into him but the rhythm is off now, and the combination of too much and not enough is driving Brian out of his goddamn mind. 

He wets his lips. “I swear to god, Dom, if you don’t fuck me right now I am not going to be responsible for my actions,” he pants. He’s impressed with himself - he doesn’t sound anywhere near as destroyed as he feels. 

“I got you,” Dom says and pats at his hip clumsily. Brian jerks as he feels Dom’s cock nudging against his crack while Dom’s fingers are still inside him. “Uh,” he starts, but Dom shushes him, pulls his fingers out, and pushes his dick into him. 

Brian bites his lip and is inhaling sharply, trying to relax, when Dom wraps a hand around his cock and starts jerking him off slowly. That does it, and sparks shoot up Brian’s spine as Dom easily slides the rest of the way into him. He blinks sweat out of his eyes and shifts forward into Dom’s hand to try and get him to speed up; Dom groans, says, “You’re killing me here,” and Brian stares incredulously at the pillow. 

“You just had your tongue in my ass,” he snaps, ”if anyone-“ and then has to stop when Dom slides almost all the way out and fucks into him again steadily. Desperate now, Brian reaches behind himself for any piece of Dom he can get a hand on; he has to twist slightly to get a good grip on Dom’s hip, and Dom gaps something Brian can’t quite hear into his shoulder. It doesn’t matter though, because now that he’s got leverage Brian can tug greedily at Dom while he rolls his own hips back, and it’s exactly what he needs.

“Yeah, right there,” he gasps when Dom gets with the picture, and feels Dom twitch inside him before his thrusts get erratic. He lets go of Dom’s hip to brace himself better against the bed, mutters, “Oh fuck, Dom, fucking give it to me,” and Dom does. 

What could be seconds or minutes later Dom goes abruptly still and tense against Brian’s back for a moment before he shudders and groans, and as Brian feels himself getting a hell of a lot messier he starts to laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says, and Dom groans again and drops his head against Brian’s shoulder. This time he sounds more embarrassed than anything else. 

The sudden hilarity of this situation in no way diminishes Brian’s desperate need to come, so he rocks his cock into Dom’s maddeningly slack hand in search of friction. Dom hisses, probably from the overstimulation, and pulls away from Brian. The protest Brian intends to make at Dom’s lack of consideration dies in his throat when Dom unceremoniously flips him over and sucks him off, and Brian’s orgasm whites everything else out.

—

“That wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”

Brian snickers from his sprawl on the bed and turns on his side to look at Dom. “I hadn’t noticed,” he says with a grin. “Considering how smooth you were at the end and all.” 

Dom grimaces. 

Brian props himself up on an elbow and studies him. “It’s cool, man. I had fun.” The tense lines around Dom’s mouth begin to soften and Brian allows himself one last look at Dom: the way his skin is gleaming with sweat, the powerful cut of his body, the way satisfaction is creeping into his expression; and then Brian slides off the bed and grabs his jeans. 

They both had a good time but it’s getting late now, and experience has taught Brian that it’s time to leave. 

He’s just finished peering under the bed for his missing shoe when movement catches his eye: Dom is sitting up, his abdominal muscles rippling with the motion, and he’s looking at Brian quizzically. 

Fuck, he’s gorgeous. 

“Going somewhere?”

Brian flashes a smile. “Figured it was time I head out.” 

Dom tilts his head and doesn’t say anything; Brian tries to shake off the odd feeling that he’s being assessed and moves to check the room over again. 

The puddle of black on the floor turns out to be his shirt, and once he’s got that he’s only missing the left shoe. “Hey, have you seen my shoe? I thought it was around here somewhere.”

“I didn’t realize you were in such a rush.”

“Nah, it’s just - it’s late, and you probably want me out of here. It’s cool.” There it is, hiding underneath Dom’s shorts. He sits on the edge of the bed to shove them on and feels the bed shifting under him. 

“And what, you’ve got an early meeting?” Light fingertips brush his arm and Brian stops what he’s doing. Dom doesn’t sound amused anymore. Almost hurt, maybe. 

Maybe.

“I’m on leave right now, actually. Administrative,” he adds with a laugh, although he doesn’t find it funny. The sudden chill behind him means Dom has pulled away from him. Brian doesn’t let himself react in any way, and tells himself he doesn’t miss the heat. He stands up, makes sure his face is blank, says, “So I’ll see you around,” and then freezes, fake smile on his lips, mid-turn. 

Dom is laughing but it’s not a happy sound, and something in Brian’s chest goes tight. The laugh fades abruptly and Dom cocks his head. “Why did you even come here?” 

Two days after the warehouse he’d caught himself thinking about Dom. The things he’d said to Brian in the cell, the way he’d acted when Brian was undercover; the way he’d all but disappeared once they’d gotten out. 

A week later the thoughts still hadn’t gone away and Dom still hadn’t contacted him, had made no effort to tell him - what, that they were good? Brian had felt like kicking himself: of course they weren’t good. Brian was a cop and Dom knew, and now that they weren’t trapped in a tiny cell together things were different. 

For a few days he’d managed to convince himself that he had only imagined the looks, and a day or so later he’d finally acknowledged that Dom was attracted to him. He hadn’t let himself go near that thought while he was undercover.

And Brian, well, it was obvious now that Brian was hot for Dom, too. His dreams were full of the man.

He’d started thinking that at least he could get a decent fuck out this whole, screwed up mess. Even when Dom threw him out after at least he’d have been purged from Brian’s mind and Brian would be able to get on with his life. 

But that didn’t happen. Why _did_ Brian come here? 

He closes his eyes and feels the truth of it. There’s no clawing Dom out of him now. If that was what he was shooting for he never should have come here in the first place.

And yet here he is.

He opens his eyes and takes in the guarded expression on Dom’s face, the obvious tension in his body: the tight line of his mouth. Brian marvels at how he could have forgotten that Dominic Toretto is an all or nothing kind of guy. 

“I could stay. I didn’t think you’d want me to,” he offers when Dom’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. And then, because the silence is getting to him, he adds, “I’d like to.”

Dom relaxes marginally and Brian remembers to breathe. Dom raises an eyebrow at him. “What part of ‘everything’ did you not get?” he drawls, sounding like himself again, and heat rises on the back of Brian’s neck before he can control it. 

Should he admit that he thought Dom was talking about sex…? 

Nah. Right now he’s more in favour of crawling onto the bed on top of Dom, and the way Dom immediately makes space for him between his legs tells him it’s the better move. He mouths at Dom’s collarbone as arms wrap around him, pulling him closer, and works his way up Dom’s neck until he gets to his lips. He has to laugh at Dom’s pleased expression. “Okay,” Brian says. “You got me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is very appreciated!


End file.
